Wandering Alone
by swordofstars
Summary: A story used as backstory for my campaign.


5/26/2003 11:29 PM  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The door to a small tavern swung open and the night air bought sand from the dunes swirling into the dimly-lit room. These tiny eddies found themselves crushed under a leather boot which entered a moment later. The owner of the boot, a man about 6 feet tall, walked into the room with unusual grace. The few, bored patrons looked over to him, and might have called out a friendly question or greeting, but their words seemed frozen to their tongues by the chill, which seemed to radiate from his eyes. The traveler wore a sand-colored cloak, hooded to block the sun and the heat of the day, but drawn close to stave off the chill of the night. His hands were covered by soft, leather gloves so the few people in the tavern could only see the portions of his face not covered by the hood which still hung low over his face, and the front of his chest where the ties on his shirt had loosened. The exposed skin was a light grayish color, not at all the tan expected of a traveler. A large sword hung from a well-worn leather strap which ran across the man's chest. With a smooth gesture of his hand, the traveler brushed back his hood, allowing the several patrons a view of his raven black hair, tied into a flowing tail. From the grace with which he moved, the sharp features of his face and the strange color of his skin, the men in the room guessed he was either of Elvin or noble blood, possibly both. At the long bar, stained with age and dark beer, sat a man with a pin proclaiming his status as the captain of the town guard. He took a long draught from his foaming mug before addressing the stranger cordially, "Hey. Where do ya' hail from? Do ya' read? Or did ya' just miss the sign at the gates? The really big 'n sayin' 'check all weapons upon enterin'?' or are ya' just daft. Cause here, we don't like strangers carryin' around steel. What with the fact we have a town guard and all to deal with whatever trouble do show up." The stranger paused a moment before replying, "Oh". He sat down at the far end of the bar and ordered a glass of water. This earned him a few bemused looks from the other patrons. The bartender asked if he might want something stronger. However when the traveler softly repeated his request and put some silver onto the bar he got his glass quickly enough. "Are ya' hard o' hearing boy? Look, I don't want any trouble, so I'll let you slide for bringin' that there weapon inta' town, if you'll just hand it over nicely." The stranger looked briefly at the guard and then went back to sipping his water, totally unconcerned by the blustering guard. This apathy irritated the guard more than any rowdy retort ever could. Who was this to come into his town and ignore the laws? And he didn't even act like he knew they were there, he just ignored them. Like he was above it! "I'll be takin' that sword from ya' now, you danm elf!. Here we don't care who you are, law is the law, and it says that EVERYONE has to give up their weapons upon entering this hellhole, even you." He stood and grabbed the hilt of the stranger's sword. That was his first mistake. The stranger's gloved hand seemed to blur as it flew out and grabbed the fool by the neck, bringing up, and then smashing into the bar. The stranger seemed totally unconcerned as he did this; nothing disturbed his placid expression. He drained his glass and then whispered in the guard's ear, "I am no elf." Still holding the shocked human against the bar with one hand, he used his teeth to remove other's glove; the flesh was snow white as was the rest of the skin, but the fingers ended in black razor claws. The stranger tenderly placed the exposed claws onto the guard's veins, pushing with just a hair less than the force needed to pierce the skin. Then he whispered again into the man's ear "Leave me in peace." Then he released the poor man and replaced his glove. "You're in for some trouble, boy! Assaultin' a guard is gonna keep you here for a long time!" The man gathered himself to leave and to find his dignity and a pair of dry pants. "My name is Aedriel. Not 'boy.' Leave me," he snarled. He then asked the bartender for that stronger something, and received it in a beer glass. He sipped at the concoction as he returned to his thoughts. The younger of the two bar maids watched the stranger, who seemed to be indifferent to everything, even the large amount of alcohol he was consuming. She was a girl of about 16 years, with hair as red as clouds around the setting sun. Nothing seemed to be happening tonight, and all the customers had enough to drink, so she decided that she might pass some time by talking to this stranger. She slid up to him, and asked in a soft and kind voice, "Hey there, I bet you've been traveling for a while. You must have some pretty good stories. Care to share any of them?" The warrior looked at the girl and his eyebrow went up as he began to wonder, if she some sort of amateur spy? But he decided that information about him couldn't have gotten out already. No, it just couldn't have, he though, not yet. But that left the question, why was she talking to him? Aedriel rolled his eyes as he considered that she might be just wasting his time. He was just too tired for this. The reply slipped out easily, "No." The girl got indignant at being brushed off so quickly. After all the times she had fended men off, she opens up to one and he ignores her? "Well then what DO you want? You just went and made an enemy of the Captain of the town guard! And you bring a weapon into town and don't even try to hide it! Are you one of those damn brawlers who go around to pick fights and break things? We don't need another one of them coming through, we have enough problems with the farmers anyway." "Oh." "Come on you, why are you here? We don't need our furniture stained with blood!" "Oh," He then turned to the bartender, who was also the owner of the inn, and told him, "I want a room for the next two nights. Have dinner brought to me there. Otherwise, don't disturb me." The stranger then tossed a pair of golden coins across the bar. "This will cover the cost." The bartender's eyes widened at the sight of the gold, they were easily worth the largest room in the inn for two weeks, let alone two days. He hurriedly gave Aedriel a key and told him that dinner was stew and would be up to him shortly. The worn stairs creaked under even the slight weight of the warrior as he entered his room. It was large enough, and had it's own small bath attached. It surprised him that there was a tap, these barbarians in the Waste didn't normally have running water, of course it was only cold, but that could be fixed, ah, the perks of not being human. He removed his clothes, the dust from days traveling still clinging to them, and exposed a large pair of wings, which stretched painfully, once they were freed from their silken bonds. He looked at the bath and dipped a claw into the tepid water, muttering something. A surge of energy passed pleasantly through him, and then a plume of steam rose ghostlike from the water and brushed his face. The enveloping warmth brought a smile to the warrior's face as it seeped under his skin and permeated his muscles. The idiot downstairs couldn't have food ready quickly, so there was plenty of time to relax. It took about two minutes before he heard a bang on the door followed by the handle turning and was jolted from his relaxation. Had he forgotten to lock the door? Shit! He leapt up and tried to find where he had dropped his cloak, but it was in the middle of the room! Damn it! As she entered with what once was going to be her dinner, the younger serving wench heard the splashing and assumed the stranger was being modest, so she called, "Hi, just dinner, and don't worry, you don't have anything I haven't seen before." Then she looked up and saw something she shouldn't have. Something she couldn't have seen before, it took a second for her to register that it wasn't some strange leather cloak the stranger had on his back. Although the light was dim, and there was only an instant before the warrior swept his canvas cloak over his shoulders, shielding his back from view, it was enough. She dropped the stew and screamed. When he heard more footsteps coming up the stairs instinct took over. The warrior clamped his taloned hand over the silly wench's mouth and pulled out of site from the hall. Outside the bartender saw the open door, and heard the bodies hitting the water, but only murmured something about 'customer satisfaction,' before continuing on his way. It was only when Aedriel heard the footsteps go the back of the hall that he stood up. "I want to promise me that if I take my hand away you won't scream. Can you do that?" he asked. Tears ran down her face as she nodded, utterly terrified of what the monster would do if she didn't agree. He took his hand away. She screamed. The demon realized that if anyone heard her and came to investigate it would be a problem. He moved at his normal speed, almost a blur to human eyes, and shut and locked the door. Then he grabbed her again, and ordered her silent. She complied this time because the demon looked as if he would tear the sound from her throat before he would let it escape her lips. The warrior moved his hand to her waist and with the other, fumbled in his cloth bag for a glistening needle. The steel pierced the girl's skin as she opened her mouth once more. Instead of a piercing cry, only a soft moan escaped her lips, and she went limp in moments as she felt an icy fluid coursing through her veins. Chapter 2  
  
When she collapsed, the demon thought for a moment, what would he do with the stupid wench? If he let her go she could incite some fools into a mob, and torches or pitchforks would be a problem. Not because they could hurt him, an idiot farmer had no chance of stabbing him with a clumsy stick, and normal fire was uncomfortable at best, but he didn't want to have to cut through the entire town to continue on his way. That and while the villagers couldn't hurt him, there were many creatures in the world who could, and stories of a demon might just attract competent bounty hunters. He considered killing her, and then decided against it; she could be more useful to him alive. After all, this world was alien to him, and he wasn't sure exactly where he needed to be going. The human could help him with that, and she would make it easier for him to pass as human when he did reach the next town. There was so much he didn't understand, and his knowledge of this language wasn't very good. She would come with him for a short while, if she liked it or not. Aedriel studied his prize, she had hair that in the dim light looked amber, and had green eyes, which would offset it well, were they open. A small button nose made her look younger than she really was, Aedriel guessed that the girl was in her late teens; however her figure proclaimed that she was slightly more mature. Her clothing was obviously second hand, at first he had though that her kirt was intended to look like a patchwork quilt, but upon closer inspection he found that once it was a continuous fabric, but now really had more patches than original cloth. The smell of the stew wafted up from the ground and made Aedriel remember that his prisoner would need to eat as well so bent down and used the rough towel hung next to the bed to clean the floor. Most of the stew was still in the bowl, and so would suffice to feed the girl when she awoke. He placed the bowl on the rickety table next to the bed, and went to his canvas bag and withdrew a bottle of wine, so much better than the swill they drank here. Several hours later, girl awoke, and found herself tied to the bed. She would have screamed at the warrior who sat next to her, were it not for the gag, and the fact he was calmly polishing his steel blade. Instead she settled for simply struggling against the bonds. The warrior decided that the wisest thing to do would be to let her struggle until she calmed down on her own, so he put his sword on his lap and waited until she finished trying to pull free. After about three minutes, the serving wench stopped pulling at her bonds and paused to think. She wasn't going to be able to break them; the knots were too well tied. Although, she wasn't sure what was happening, it didn't seem like the warrior wanted to hurt her, or he would have done it while she was sleeping, instead of just sitting there patiently. What the hell was going on? She thought back to what had happened, she had been ordered to take the stew she had cooked to be her dinner up to that traveling noble, she remembered being more than a little mad at the innkeeper for that, but he reminded her that she had to do what she was told so long as he owned her indenture. Then she came up the stairs, and had been fuming, about how she was stuck in some hellhole inn, but some people could just wander around and give orders. Then she opened the door to give the man his food, but he told her not to come in. This was where everything was sort of blurry, she had opened the door anyway, and heard him splashing in the bath, and then she saw something on his back, could he really have wings? Yes, she was sure that she had seen wings. So she had screamed in surprise and terror from being in the same room with a demon, who obviously had no problem with hurting people, as he had almost done to the guard. Then he had grabbed her, and ordered her to stay quiet, the he stuck something sharp into the veins of her neck. A needle? And that was where her memory stopped. And now here she was, tied to a bed. What did he want to do with her? What was he? Elves didn't have wings, did they? But he hadn't hurt her and she knew he could have. So far as she could tell, she was fine, and her clothing was intact, so he couldn't have taken advantage of her when she was unconscious. That was good at least. The warrior simply sat at the foot of the bed, placidly waiting as his captive stopped struggling, and as her eyes showed that she was thinking. Then whispered in her ear, "You may speak, but don't scream. I don't want to have to fight my way out of this town when I leave." The waitress began snarling at him as soon as he removed the gag, saying, "You sick bastard! What the hell do you think you're doing? Tying me up like this?" "I'm sorry I had to do this." And his face showed genuine apology. "But I need to restrain you so you don't try to escape. I can't have you telling everyone what you just saw, it would attract the wrong kind of attention." He spoke with the tone of absolute certainty, he invited no comment on these plans, and they were simply inevitable. "What your wings? So what are you going to do when you leave, what makes you so sure that I won't tell anyone who'll listen?" She challenged. The warrior smiled, "You will accompany me when I leave. When I am far enough away, I will have you sent me back to your tavern." "What? You're going to kidnap me, and then when you're done, you're gonna send me back to serve out my indenture!" She looked horrified. She didn't know which part was worse. He put his hand on her collarbone to calm her a bit. This was certainly strange. She seemed to be more angry about being sent back home after she had been kidnapped than about being taken in the first place. "What would you have me do? Keep you?" He asked, a bit intrigued. "I don't care, but if you're gonna take me away from here, you sure as hell aren't going to send me back. If I stay here I'm just going to turn into some fat housewife with a bunch of kids. No thank you!" She realized that there was no way she could convince him to leave her here, but she was damned if she was going to let him send her back. He could just let her go whenever he got to where he was going. "You do not know where I am headed." "So what? If you're going there it's got to be more fun than this sandpit." Where were these words coming from? They just poured forth of their own bidding, yet they were true. Why was she telling all this to a stranger who had just knocked her unconscious? Shouldn't she be protesting being taken in the first place? Everything had a strange surreal quality that was only partially due to the poison coursing through her veins. He waited before answering, "You would come willingly with me? I am going to leave the desert and probably not return again." "You're gonna take me no matter what I say?" "Yes" "So just promise me that you'll let me go when we get wherever we're going, and I'll come along without fighting you. If you don't, I'll struggle the whole way, see how fast you can move like that." If nothing else, this was a way that she could get out of her indenture, but if came back, the innkeeper would probably add a year or so as a penalty for her 'running away.' This was truly strange, the human would come with him willingly. Well, it made things easier, and he didn't care if she went back or not. That and he needed someone who knew this land to act as his guide. "Very well." The girl almost glowed, she would finally be away from here. She'd thought about running away before, but knew that she'd never get very far. The sheriff would just ride out and bring her back, but here she had someone who could take her far, far away. She paused thoughtfully for a moment before asking, "By, the way, what's your name? I'm Kristina. You said your name last night, but I didn't hear." "Among humans, I am called Aedriel." "What kind of name is that?" "It means 'lonely angel.' Where is Kristina from?" "My mother." She shot. His question had touched a raw nerve in her. "By the way what are ya'? I didn't think elves had wings." "They don't." He avoided her question, Aedriel didn't feel like explaining to someone from the western waste that he was a living construct from an ancient mages guild. So he said, "I will untie you if you swear not to leave this room without my permission. I wish to be able to find you if I need to leave quickly." "All right, I'll stay like a good girl. Come on, what were your parents then? What kind of folks name their kid 'lonely angel?'" She was curious what kind of parents he had, was one a demon or something? He helped her to her feet as he answered, "I did not have parents." "Oh, me neither." Her expression softened. He was a kindred spirit, someone who was also alone, without family. It must have hurt to lose his parents, even if one was a demon or vampire or something, like some of the people in the stories had. But either way, if anyone understood how bad it could be to have their parents die, she could. "Do you have anyone special to you then?" He looked puzzled, then hurt and a brief look of endless sadness crossed his face for a brief moment, before he recovered his placid look and said, "Not anymore. But, I did once: A lifetime ago." "Family?" "A lover." He looked at her; this girl had found one of the only painful subjects for him. To change the topic to something more pragmatic, he asked, "Do you have any other clothes: something, which might attract less attention as you travel? I don't think this will survive travel." The skirt and shirt were worn to the point where they wouldn't last more than a few days of riding. She puffed up indignantly at this, pressing even more against the strained strings. "You're the jealous type, aren't ya'? You men, always looking beneath my neck! These clothes are fine if you just keep your eyes up!" This confused the warrior. While he had been looking down at her, it had more to do with the fact he stood 6'3" and she was only 5'9" and was lying down. He recognized Kristina as pretty; although he wasn't particularly interested in her, after all, pretty women were nothing new to him. He made a series of flicks with his sword, which looked like a flash of sunlight more than steel, as it cut through the cloth holding her down. She sat up and rubbed her wrists for a moment, trying to regain circulation. Then she slapped Aedriel's with all her strength. The warrior didn't try to stop her hand, although with his reflexes, he could have ripped it clean from her wrist long before it struck him. He looked even more puzzled than before. "What was that for?" "Tying me down! You earned it." She smiled. "You don't have much in the way of clothes, do you? Is that why you don't want to talk about wearing anything else?" He gathered his few possessions and put them into his bag while she gathered her thoughts for a retort. She had inhaled deeply to give it to him when a knock on the door interrupted her. "We know you're in there wanderer, me an' the boys wanna have a chat with you, 'bout your sword." The voice was the captain's. "Oh. So what?" Aedriel responded, his voice dangerously low. His tone made it sound like the idea of opening the door merely to indulge the captain hadn't occurred to him. Aedriel was not loud when angry, and this lack of bluster caused may people to believe him weak, the captain of the guard included. "Ya' know, he's looking for a fight. The 'boys' are some of the guards." Kristina told him. For a moment, the warrior mused that ya' seemed to be some sort of endearment. So much had changed in the time since he had been gone. For one thing, this land was no longer lush and green, the forests which once covered this land were forgotten in all but myth. However, he should probably focus on what was happening around him. "Sit on the bed and stay there." He took up his sword, unlocked the door, and turned the handle. As he did this, the captain's shoulder smashed into the door. The hinges creaked in protest as the door blasted open, sending the guard into the demon's arms. Aedriel held him up with a bemused expression, "Since we are dealing with business and not pleasure here . please forget what happened last night and act more formal?" The warrior smiled, an expression dripping with venom and malice, as he saw the captain turned crimson in front of his laughing men. The captain sputtered something resembling 'nothing happened,' and his indignant protests sent his men into another fit of mirth. A few lewd comments passed from one guard to another, it was rare that they got to see their captain looking like this. Could it be true? Kristina sat on the bed and folded her legs underneath her, as she looked worried. The captain could be dangerous when angry. Was Aedriel actually trying to make him mad? It sure seemed that way. "Look son, we're gonna be frank with you. Me an' the boys don't wanna fight. So just come easy." This wasn't true, he wanted that fight, but it was a necessary formality. "Look son. Don't mess with me here. Just hand over the sword" Aedriel looked heavenward sighed. With what the humans only saw as a streak of sunlight, brought his sword up to the ready. "That's how it's gonna be then?" one of the guards asked. "We're gonna take that from you, and if you don't give it easy, take your hand with it." The captain drew his sword and lunged at the lone warrior, who deflected the blow easily. Aedriel maneuvered so he was slightly farther from Kristina, it would be a problem if she became involved in the fight. The guards began rushing into the room as the warrior just stood there. He intended to deal with this as quickly as possible. "You should have left me in peace." Aedriel intoned as he made a series of quick slashes, and some quicker footwork which brought him into the middle of the group of guards. Two of the guards realized that they were no longer holding weapons, or able to hold much of anything, as they had gained long cuts down their sword arms. The wounds would be quite painful for a long while, but wouldn't leave anything more damaging than a scar when they finally healed. The warrior followed this combination with a stroke to their heads, using the flat of the blade. This caused both to fall limp on the floor. The two remaining guards, and their captain attacked together. Aedriel stepped backwards and cut deeply into the wrist of one man. With his unholy strength and his two handed grip, he cut into flesh as though it were water, so anther man dropped to the ground screaming, until a gloved hand smashed into his neck and silenced him. The demon would have gained the momentum of the battle, however, the captain's blow had come very close to landing true, instead of cleaving into demon flesh; it ripped open the demon's cloak, exposing a bit of wing. Suddenly everything made sense to the captain. This wasn't an elf! It was some monster! The human paused before screaming and slashing at Aedriel's throat. The winged warrior rocked back and narrowly avoided an impromptu tracheotomy. The captain's sword hissed as it opened a small gash in the snow-white flesh. "My granddad said it'd burn the flesh o' monsters. Guess it's true." Kristina had not bee frozen during this exchange, she picked up a candlestick and brought it smashing down onto the head of the only guard, other then the captain who was still moving. He dropped as if his body had suddenly been turned to cloth. "Guess it's just us then," the captain drawled. "Surrender or fall, it changes nothing for me." Aedriel intoned, he spoke the words as though they had been said a million times and always followed through. He truly didn't care if this man lived or died. He wasn't human, taking life did not affect him in the slightest anymore. "Change's nothin'? When yer gutted like a fish, lets see if you change." he sneered, the shadows on his weathered face made the hatred in his eyes shine almost with a light of it's own. The man before him would die, he had humiliated the captain in front of his men twice now, it didn't matter what noble or elf house raised hell. This man had to die. With a howl which would have seemed perfectly natural coming from the pits of hell, the captain lunged at the demon. Aedriel stepped to the side and laughed, a sound only one who had a dark sense of mirth could hope to mimic. When the captain looked at the creature standing before him, wings half extended, head back exposing the bloody throat and laughing at him, his vision took on a redish hint, partly from rage, partly from the burst vessel caused by the rage. His sword seemed lighter, almost weightless as it flashed towards the demon. The speed of the blade took Aedriel by surprise, he would never have been so careless .if it were a true warrior before him, but there was no way some backwater hick guard should be able to move so fast. The demon's blade flicked up to deflect the maddened blaze that was the guard's attack. Although the bat-winged gentleman moved faster than all but the most adept human warriors he could barely bring his steel up to intercept blazing blade coming up at his head. The captain scored a long thin gash tracing the demon's fine cheekbone. The wound wasn't more than a scratch, but pain blazed from it as if it had been touched by a sliver of the sun. Blood poured forth in a sheet which clung to the demon's skin and dripped onto the floor. A change seemed to come over the warrior as pain blazed through him, the fire from his wound was overcome by a wash of ice, he stopped thinking and started acting. A primal howl sprang from the demon's lips of it's own volition and Aedriel tensed his muscles and rebalanced his feet in preparation for an assault. Battle was a dance, and the warrior could feel a silent, invisible beat beginning. The guard, however was oblivious to the music and rhythm of steel on steel about to begin. He puffed himself up and called, "Hope ya' like the taste of my blade. Mi pa' gave it to me, took it off some witch, cause he let her free. Said it'd cut through demons like butter. Always knew I'd take out one o' you monsters one day." The captain swung at the demon's throat. A smile crossed Aedriel's face as his partner created the opening he was looking for, the beginning of an ending. In a whirl of cloth, the traveling warrior spun and allowed the blade to fly past him. He took no notice that it somehow twitched impossibly during it's flight and opened a wound on his shoulder, he was far more interested in the effects of his own blade as it flashed at it was swung in a blazing arc to point at the throat of the captain. When tension was such that the blade seemed to be fighting for freedom against the steel grip that held it, the wanderer released his blade. It seemed as though it were a silver arrow as it flew free, a blaze of light in the dreariness of the room. The poor human barely missed having his neck cut free of his shoulders, but his father's blade pulled free from his grip and clattered to the ground. This sudden loss of ballast holding him upright caused the guard to rock backwards just an instant before demon's blade cut through the air where his neck had been. The guard's triumphant, holier than thou sneer vanished like mist in the sun. Replacing it was a mask of horror. Aedriel snarled and lunged; his claws pierced the soft skin of his gloves, and then the softer mortal flesh of the captain. With a hiss the warrior brought his head back and bared his needle sharp teeth. Aedriel stuck, his mouth going to the human's jugular, the guard tensed himself for a pain which never came, instead of teeth biting into his neck, he heard a silken voice whisper in his ear, "do not meddle in my affairs again, human." With a flick of his wrist, the traveler brought a needle from inside his sleeve to his hand, and then pricked it into the guard's vein and back in a blur. It was a second before the frigidness came over the human, causing him to drop to the floor. The winged warrior pulled his sword from the wall, and took up the sword of the fallen captain. Then he genteelly re-adjusted his garments, and retrieved a new cloak from his canvas bag. Seeing Kristina's horrified look as she surveyed the aftermath of the battle, he said nothing, but replaced his sword in its sheath and slung his bag once again over his shoulder, ready to leave without the girl. He walked out of the room, leaving Kristina sitting stunned on the bed and, except for the cuts and the new sword tucked in his belt, left looking the same as when he left. The fact that bodies were strewn on the ground behind him didn't affect him at all. Kristina cried to him like a child calling after a departing parent, "Wait! Take me with you! You promised!" She was pleading as much as she was stating a fact. "I promised I would let you come. Nothing more." If she chose to come, she could, if not, so it would be. Aedriel paused and looked at her. It was this small gesture, this apparent chink in his resolve to leave her that gave Kristina the courage to continue her argument. "Listen here! You're gonna take me or I'll scream like a banshee and get everyone in the town to cane running! Besides, I just bashed one of the town guards! Do you think they aren't gonna be mad at me?" "Do as you will." The defiance on her face changed something for the warrior. He expected that this girl really would come of her own volition. It would be much better if he could make her certain that she wanted to be traveling with him, and then there would be no backing out later. He said nothing more, but when he turned around, a rare smile crossed his face. He continued, "Do as you will and live with your decision." This made Kristina pause for a moment, here it was, something she had dreamed of for years, someone who would take her away from the drudgery she had grown up with. An adventure! But would she, could she, leave everyone she knew? Was there anything holding her here? She knew that a sensible woman would choose to let the mysterious stranger leave and then go on with normal life. But the only sensible women she had met were poor creatures, worn and weary from the years and the constant and unrelenting work they faced. She had never met anyone who still dreamed and wouldn't do exactly what she did. Kristina jumped off the bed and ran to the swordsman standing just outside the door.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
The warrior withdrew a small pouch from his canvas bag and tossed it over his shoulder. It contained a handful of gold, a fortune to the now-former waitress, and a trifling sum to him. "You require a horse and clothes suitable for travel," he told her "Also whatever supplies you wish to have with you when you ride. Food, water, the other necessities. I will be at the northwest road in an hour, and I will be leaving then." These orders were the most he had said since arriving at the town. Eyes still wide at the glittering pile he had poured into her hands, Kristina listened carefully to the instructions before getting a sad look in her eyes. Her voice was a slight whisper so Aedriel moved his head close to listen as she said, "I'm indentured to the innkeepers, he won't like me buying traveling things." A wave of anguish washed over her, she had come so close to leaving the accursed boredom of this town, and a little thing like the innkeeper's objection would stop her. Aedriel spoke softly, "This will not be a problem." A momentary confusion crossed the girl's face, as she wondered how this warrior could simply dismiss the problem of her indenture. Then she understood. Kristina rushed off to gather her things as Aedriel slowly walked down the stairs leading to the front room of the small inn. It was now morning and the innkeeper had awakened and prepared breakfast. When he saw Kristina going into the recently awakened town muttered, "Where is that girl heading of to?" The warrior smiled at the innkeeper standing behind his bar, but no mirth showed in his narrow, steely eyes as he replied, "She is getting a few things I told her to buy." "Was she to your liking?" the man asked Aedriel in an offhand sort of way. "I do not understand." What did the man mean by 'liking'? Kristina wasn't a bottle of wine. But then, such a long time spent away from society had caused his understanding of common speech to wane. And it might take more than four months to get back. "The bar-wench, the one you spent the night with, was she to your liking? Was it a night well spent?" "She was very interesting." The traveler was still smiling coldly; it always took some time after battle before he felt totally normal, and his nerves were still buzzing. "She's pretty enough, a bit moonstruck though. She's always dreaming about headin' off some day. She doesn't realize that it'll never happen, you know the type?" Aedriel was starting to find this human extremely distasteful. If he wanted to spend the entirety of his short life wiping a bar, so be it. But who was he to trap others into the same thing? Aedriel broke from his normal composure long enough to spit out the words, "You would have her do what instead of running off?" "A romantic that one is. But she's gonna' be in this town until someone buys her for a wife. She believed everything I told her about being indentured, but I did take her in when her parents were roasted as witches, so I guess she owes me somethin' for that. I'm gonna get a tidy sum for that one, at least when I can find a man who wants one as wild as her," the innkeeper bragged. "You will not be able to sell her," Aedriel's smile widened. There were times when the tasks of his never-ending duty were a burden and a chore, but dealing with this pitiful creature would be a pleasure. "An' why's that stranger? You think there's something wrong with her?" Who was this elf lord to tell him what he could and couldn't do with his property? "She is coming with me when I leave." "Sorry stranger, but yer wrong there. Yer not leaving this town with that girl; Zeek, the Captain of the town guard guard, an' me are buddies, an' he's up stairs. Zeek! This stranger here thinks he's gonna take Kristina with him for free." "He cannot hear you, nor can he help you." "An why's that? I saw him go upstairs just a minute ago." Aedriel simply smiled and brushed his cloak to one side, exposing the guard's sword. The innkeeper groped under the bar for the ax-handle he used as a club, when it was necessary to subdue particularly rough patrons, and when he had grasped it firmly, he swung it in a long arc against the traveler's neck. That would teach the damned elf that no one would steal his servant! Instead of moving to dodge or block the club Aedriel simply allowed it to connect with the base of his neck. The aged wood splintered as it hit, leaving nothing but tinder in the human's hand. With a gesture like a tender caress, Aedriel took the innkeeper's chin in his hand, and traced the jaw line with the talon on his thumb before coming to the right point. The warrior snapped his wrist, and smiled as he watched the instant of horrified recognition on the human's face, before the innkeeper went limp. This human was nothing more than cattle, a failure as a sentient being, and so would not receive the respect due a fallen warrior, even one such as the captain. The traveler sank his fangs into the man's neck and drank deeply from the wound, but stopped as the human's heart began to falter. There had already been enough killing. Aedriel took the unconscious body and laid it under the bar. Although he was not a vampire, Aedriel needed to take in energy from outside himself to fuel magics. There were many places to get this energy: some stones radiated it, and the land had a constant glow that sustained him, but nowhere was it so concentrated as in human blood. The cloaked warrior headed towards the stables at the edge of town. There he took his black mare from its stall and asked the groom to saddle the horse. Aedriel's horse was a light, fast creature accustomed to the sounds and sights of battle. The warrior weighed very little and so did not require a massive charger; the extra speed was of more use than the ability to carry a fully armored warrior into battle. There were some necessary supplies for the trail, and for the next hour he tried to guess what Kristina would need, but not procure. So into the saddlebags went some bread, dried meat strips and a few extra garments. Aedriel also got another cloak and a silk shirt for himself, to replace what was damaged. As an afterthought, he picked up a dress that looked Kristina's size. She might need something formal to wear, especially when they reached his destination, if she followed him that long. Fashion in this part of the world appeared a sorry affair before the warrior's discerning eyes. These humans seemed to have a primitive fascination with complexity, the majority of the things in the store were garishly adorned with lace and frills, however, a single dress stood out from the rest. It was an elegantly simple design, white silk embroidered with dragons. It was this that went into the canvas bag at the warrior's hip. Finally he wandered back to the stables to see if Kristina had gotten an appropriate horse. A chestnut stallion greeted him at the door. Kristina held it's reigns as she asked, "What do you think? Muscles rippled under the horse's skin. It was as tall as the black mare but broader in the chest. "This will suffice." Aedriel gestured for Kristina to follow him, and began walking out of town. His own horse followed him of its own accord. It took Kristina a few more seconds to realize that they were really, finally, leaving. After they were a few hundred yards from the edge of the small town a cry rose up, 'stop them!' Hearing this Aedriel drew on the energy he had taken from the man at the bar, and with a short incantation felt it flow from his fingertips and spread out like a cloak. He seemed to somehow dim, even his eyes seemed duller, less real. A similar change came over Kristina and the horses. "Get on the horse." He ordered. His spell would cause people to overlook them; however, it was difficult to maintain over two people and the horses, and it wasn't always effective. "Urn, Aedriel," Kristina bit her lip and embarrassedly looked down. "Tell when we are out of sight of the town." "That's just it, I can't ride a horse." "Sit in the saddle, then lean forward." His desire to get out of site of the town hardened his tone considerably. Holding the spell over himself, two horses and an angry redhead was taxing, he could do it, but they took up a good deal of his extra magic. "You like being rude! And I'm wearing a skirt!" "Let's go." Aedriel didn't have the time to argue with the wench. He swung himself up, onto her stallion and then pulled her up onto his lap. Unfortunately, the horse seemed as stubborn as the girl and so wouldn't respond properly to the pressure of the knees, the warrior had to use the reigns with one hand and held Kristina to his chest with the other so she wouldn't falloff the horse as he broke into a gallop. The maid shrieked as the powerful beast she rode started running. Kristina wrapped her arms around Aedriel and gripped as tightly as she could. Although she was terrified she would fall backwards off the horse, part of her sang as it realized that it was happening! She was really leaving her old home. She was finally going to travel and see the world. After a time of hard riding, the group reached a stream with a small pool. Aedriel would have continued much longer were he on his own but the stallion needed a break, as did Kristina. The girl was almost totally asleep when they had reached the pool. The combination of the poison and the excitement had drained her, when the jolting of the horse finally stopped; she tightened her grip one last time before falling completely asleep. The winged gentleman gently lifted her off the horse and set the lass on the soft ground near the stream with her head in his lap. She slept peacefully as the horses drank. The warrior decided they would wait the rest of the day before continuing. Gods, Kristina looked so much more peaceful when she was sleeping and not taking offence at every little thing he said. Chapter 4  
  
Rain poured down, thick enough that it seemed the entire mountain was under some celestial waterfall. And like salmon swimming up a deluge, waves of men scrabbled at the stone underneath their fingers, searching for a purchase to heave themselves upward, to reach the summit of this windswept mountain or to die trying. Their shouts drowned out even the lightning cutting the heavens above. As they rushed upward, the water ran down, but it was nothing like the pure drops which normally tasted like wine. Instead, the flavor had a metal taint, and the color, a hint of red. For those who clambered to the top of this damned mount, no comfort awaited. Instead, they were greeted by more shouts, and faces split into maniacal grins plastered to the faces of their compatriots. The summit was a table topped structure, flatter stone than the cliffs reaching to it, like the hand of god had hewn the peak of a pyramid and let it weather for a thousand or so years. Blood and water slicked the rough granite, the weight of the armor worn by these hundreds of men made it harder to stand as they shuffled their feet and picked their way around the bodies of the fallen. The screams of the dying, the wounded and the soon-to-be wounded merged into a single cacophony, a hellish choir, clashing steel for the harmony. One voice rose above the others, a clear cry, a pure bass calling to the heavens, almost singing, but without words. A soprano cry pierced the others, and the faint scent of tears cut and cleansed the air, although there were but two who could sense it. The waves of men ebbed, but their tide began to slow. Although they died in lines, their lives did little to turn the battle. Here the battle was pre-ordained to be between but four of the masses. One wore white, the color pure against the steel grey sky. The bright one wore armor, flashing with each stroke of the heavenly fire, and the earthly steel. Chain, pure as stars, gleamed from the joints of this shell, and a ribbon flew from a silver helm, unhindered by the cold and the rain. His blade flashed; somehow brighter than the lighting it reflected as it arced and danced towards his enemy. The darker, the fallen, a darkly graceful creature fought on. Though battered and torn its will was unscathed. All the waves of men couldn't quench the dark fire embanked in his eyes. A dark blade held in ebony claws matched the sword of light brought to bear by the angel. Although it knew it merely had to surrender to live, it would not bow, not to save its own life. Instead it took the lives of others, except the one whose life eluded it, the radiant Knight. Combat bound the two together; the men rushing the mount were but a momentary distraction, a barely noticeable discord in the harmony of battle. The fallen had no illusions, although in another lifetime it could have been comrade to the bright one, now they were diametrically opposed, and so neither held back. Another pair stood, a man in robes of grey. The last was a woman, merely a child. A crystalline globe hung from the man's neck, and a blade, carved from a crystal shard fit in his hand, his other hand firmly gripped the child's shoulder. The child was wearing a simple dress, the style of the peasants, and carried neither arms nor armor. The only things she had brought to the battle were her tears, her piercing cry, and a look of pure horror. Her blurred vision focused on the fallen's eyes, and met his gaze. Strangely enough, they did not hold a look of disgust, but instead a plea. The fallen screamed one last time, and broke the fight with his brother, ignoring the gauntlet of men slashing at his skin and his clothes as he rushed towards the child, and the man. A mask of fury covered his face even before the crystal shard stopped his lungs, coldly piercing his heart. The fallen collapsed, something icy flowing into his veins, slowing it. It was only dimly aware of the pain as the men around it slashed at the torn remainder of its mortal form. Its eyes stayed focused on the child's still beating heart until they closed, not to be opened again.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Aedriel woke, cold sweat on his face, and a colder chill running down his spine. He looked down at the peaceful creature lying in his lap, so innocent. He shuddered. A deep breath helped calm him and restore his pulse to normal. He sat thinking until Kristina began to stir after a few hours of sleep. This brought him back from the memories, he was still sitting, leg crossed with her head in his lap as she began to wake. Awareness came slowly as the girl contemplated her bizarre dream; she was taken by a demon-winged warrior away from her town, after a bloody fight with the town guard. Wouldn't it be wonderful it were true? But she needed to get up, even though her mat seemed so much softer than normal, it was dark out, funny, the embers should still be glowing from the night before. 


End file.
